


Sherlolly 1:  Coffee

by George_Sand



Series: George_Sand Sherlolly Series 1 [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Coffee, F/M, First kiss (not counting The Empty Hearse window kiss), I like that, Intimate kissing, Mature but always sweet and gentle, Slow Burn, Virgin Sherlock, You like that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-24
Updated: 2017-01-24
Packaged: 2018-09-19 16:44:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9450782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/George_Sand/pseuds/George_Sand
Summary: Molly and Sherlock get to know each other intimately.Part 1 of George_Sand Sherlolly Series 1, please read the series in order, as each builds upon the last.Molly moves toward Sherlock and says, gently but insistently, “What do you need?”  In an instant, Sherlock thinks and analyses many things. He is suddenly aware that Molly is a woman, not just a doctor or a scientist.  He remembers that ‘Let’s get coffee’ is sometimes a euphemism for other activities and wonders if Molly mistook his literal question in the lab.  He is taken back by her apparently sudden confidence and charm.  He internalizes the smooth tone of her voice, realizing that she has more knowledge of some subjects than he does.  He is certain, now, that Molly doesn’t refer to cream or sugar, and is alarmed to think that her question might be rhetorical.  She might know what he needs better than he does.





	

          Molly enters the lab at St. Bartholomew's Hospital to find Sherlock peering into a microscope, riding crop next to him on the table.  It is the end of a long day and though she’s always happy to see Sherlock, she hopes he doesn’t have too many smart comments for her.  She greets him, her voice cheery but her eyes wary as they rest on the crop.  Sherlock sees the reaction and looks closely at her as he says, imperiously, “Molly, I’d like some coffee…”

          Molly is incredulous and mentally prepares a retort, only to be surprised when Sherlock’s sentence continues, “…would you like to join me?”

          Molly, confused, manages a high, “Oh-kay”.

          Sherlock continues, “The canteen coffee upstairs won’t do, hospital coffee reminds me of death and work. We’ll have to go somewhere further abroad and less exciting”.

          Molly’s disbelief wanes, she relaxes, and her “okay” is not at all squeaky.  Then she says, carefully, “There’s a place nearby.”

          Sherlock wordlessly grabs his Belstaff and glances at the riding crop, choosing to leave it on the table.  Molly winds her scarf around her neck and zips her coat.

\--

          The air outside is cold but not sharp.  Molly and Sherlock talk easily, which is usually, but not always, the case.  After a few blocks Molly stops in front of a non-descript building, saying, “We can have coffee here if you like.  That’s my kitchen,” gesturing toward a second floor window.

         Sherlock mentally notes Molly’s good logic; her flat will be more comfortable, and the coffee better, than at a café.  “Of course,” he says, almost congratulatingly, and opens the vestibule door for Molly.

\--

          Molly fills the cafetière and turns again to Sherlock.  She raises her eyebrows and says innocently “Black, with two sugars?” and Sherlock knows he’s being made fun of.

          Sherlock draws himself up and says, haughtily “Yes, in fact”. 

           Molly unsuccessfully suppresses a smile.

           Despite never having seen her apartment, Sherlock has deduced the location of the mugs and which of all the mismatched crockery is Molly’s favorite.  He gets it from the cupboard, along with another for himself. 

           As he turns again to Molly she says, more quietly, “What else do you need”? 

           Sherlock replies, “Sug….ar”, the word fading as he becomes suspicious.  He is surprised to conclude that she is no longer talking about coffee.  Immediately guarded, he wracks his brain, only to come out with, “I’m not certain”.

           Molly notices how Sherlock’s hands dwarf the mugs.  She moves toward him and says, gently but insistently, “What do you need?”

           In an instant, Sherlock thinks and analyses many things.  He wonders how this sudden change of events came about.  He is suddenly aware that Molly is a woman, not just a doctor or a scientist.  He remembers that ‘Let’s get coffee’ is sometimes a euphemism for other activities and wonders if Molly mistook his literal question in the lab.  He is taken back by her apparently sudden confidence and charm.  He internalizes the smooth tone of her voice, realizing that she has more knowledge of some subjects than he does.  He is certain, now, that Molly doesn’t refer to cream or sugar, and is alarmed to think that her question might be rhetorical.  She might know what he needs better than he does. 

           Sherlock’s brow furrows and he slowly says, again, almost questioningly, “I’m…not certain”. 

           Molly is much more sure than he imagined she might be in a situation like…whatever this is.  He is struggling to define the exact state of events and just starting to wonder what to do when he finds her right in front of him.  Her face is open, her hands at her sides.  She shrugs one shoulder as she says, “Well, what do you want, then?”

           Pushing the bizarreness of the situation to a corner of his brain, Sherlock furrows his brow in serious thought and, after a moment, experiments with a peck on Molly’s cheek.  The contact is quick but his retreat is very slow, and Molly’s mouth finds his for a swift press on the lips. 

           Sherlock and Molly both stand up straight and Sherlock observes how much he has been stooping, and how much Molly has been stretching.  Clearly, this difference in height must be amended.  Molly is obviously thinking the same thing, because she lightly jumps and scoots to sit on the counter, one of her legs folded under her, the other hanging down. 

           Sherlock turns to Molly and looks at her knees, somehow reluctant to look her into the eyes.  He puts his hands on her knees, feeling an utter novice…and remembering that Molly is not.  When Sherlock looks up at her eyes, his are confused, almost pleading.  Molly says, kindly, “There is no wrong answer Sherlock.  What do you like?”

           Again, Sherlock is confused and drops his eyes.  He has no prior experience with women.  He doesn’t know what he likes, and therefore has no idea how to ask for or go about it, but he hears Molly say lightly, “Then let’s find out”.  Sherlock’s hands on her knees, her hands on his upper arms, she leans forward and methodically but playfully drops light kisses all around his mouth, purposely just missing his lips.  This is nice, but Sherlock wants more, so he moves his head until his lips catch Molly’s.  As they do, a corner of his mouth unconsciously turns up and Molly says, against his lips, “You like that”.  Sherlock bashfully ducks to rest his forehead on Molly’s cheek.  He allows himself to smile again as he thinks of the speed of her deductions and her seemingly uncharacteristic confidence.

           Molly says, “I like this”, and puts a finger under Sherlock’s chin, guiding him up until his lips are on her eyelid.  Sherlock is surprised at the location of his mouth, and remains unsurely still for a moment.  Then, deciding that Molly knows what she wants, he tentatively kisses the eyelid.  He kisses the other and touches his tongue to her eyelashes.  He has apparently done well; Molly sighs quietly.  He gently kisses and licks her eyelids and lashes, committing her request and her sigh to memory, and feels her eyebrows rise against his cheek.

           Molly slides her hands up Sherlock’s arms and traces his clavicles with her fingers.  An unpleasant chill climbs Sherlock’s spine and he moves his head involuntarily.  “You don’t like that,” states Molly.  Sherlock is unsure of the consequences of his reaction, and of what to do next, but Molly is relaxed and does not seem at all put off. 

           He bravely ventures closer to kiss Molly’s mouth and soon Molly strokes his upper lip with her tongue.  Sherlock parts his lips without thinking and shuffles his feet forward but Molly spreads her hands on his chest and pushes him gently away.  Sherlock is confused by this apparent rebuff and watches as she unfolds her other leg to dangle off the counter.  Molly straddles Sherlock and he rejoices.  The hands that pushed his chest away now slide around to his back, pulling him closer.  Sherlock must have made a happy noise because she says quietly, “You like that”. 

          Sherlock observes that Molly’s hands had moved easily on his chest and now his back, guiding him, so he decides to experiment.  He puts his arms around Molly and spreads his hands over the center of her back, one above the other.  Like this, his hands’ breadth almost covers her spine from neck to waist.  As he flexes his hands and draws her in, he is fascinated to feel her melt into his chest.  Molly slumps a little, not of necessity but of pleasure, and Sherlock hears just a hint of a mew.  He states, “You like that,” marveling at his motion’s instinctiveness, its ease, and her response.  Molly sighs deeply, and somehow Sherlock can hear her smile.  He releases the pressure, then applies it again, eliciting another involuntary and almost imperceptible mew.  Molly smiles to herself and knows that he is practicing and memorizing the movement.  Then she kisses him.

           After some time, Molly scoots forward to push her hips against Sherlock’s and he feels a moment of exhilaration before a moment of loss as she continues forward to slip down off the counter. 

           Sherlock quickly reviews his recent actions for any potential offense.  Not finding any obvious culprits, he wonders why Molly is withdrawing.  If she no longer likes it.  He certainly likes it.

           Sherlock watches Molly pathetically as she walks toward the living room, then feels a desperate happiness as she turns to look at him expectantly and tilts her head toward the couch.  Sherlock follows, sits uncertainly, then sighs in relief as Molly climbs up to straddle him once more.  Molly says “You like that…mmm, and I like that” with a notable catch in her breath as Sherlock’s trousers twitch beneath her.

           Sherlock manages a low “yes” under his breath before he spreads his hands along Molly’s spine, in his way, and Molly melts into his chest, in her way.  In Their way.  Sherlock lets go of analysis and allows himself to simply respond to Molly.  His hand slides up her neck, his fingers tease between Molly’s head and her ponytail.  She reaches back and pulls the elastic out, allowing her hair to fall around Sherlock’s arm.  Then she suddenly slips out of her cardigan and drops it to the floor.  She wears a slim white t-shirt underneath that clings beautifully to her torso.  He looks, puzzled but joyous, into Molly’s eyes.  She suddenly looks bashful and blushes slightly at her bold move, but Sherlock quickly reassures her, “I like that”.  Her mouth finds Sherlock’s and he breathes in her mew as they melt together Their way.

           As they kiss Molly straightens her torso a bit and Sherlock finds his hands under her arms.  He allows them to slide down her sides to find her waist, his thumbs grazing the sides of her breasts.  Molly gasps perceptibly.  “You like that,” says Sherlock, exhilarated.  In answer, she crushes her mouth to his and rakes her fingers through his soft hair.

           Molly is impossibly warm in his lap and Sherlock feels another movement in his trousers.  He hears a low rumbling moan in his chest and another catch in Molly’s breath.  She burrows her head into Sherlock’s neck.  He reaches under Molly’s thighs to lift and adjust her a bit and she thrusts her hips forward.  Molly puts her hands on Sherlock’s chest and uses her fingertips to gently brush his nipples through his shirt.  Sherlock convulsively grasps Molly’s hips and she says, victoriously, “You like that!”

           But Sherlock releases her hips and gently cradles her face in his hands.  He says, “Not tonight.”  Molly breathes for a moment, eyes closed, then whispers, “No, not tonight”.  Sherlock smiles as he replies, “But next time I can tell you what I like.” 

           Molly smiles too and tucks her head down onto Sherlock’s chest.  After a moment of resting his hand on her hair, Sherlock deduces that she must be uncomfortable, slumped against him.  He naturally, unthinkingly turns and stretches out to lay on his back, and Molly follows and again snuggles into his chest.  Sherlock feels her heartbeat slow and her breaths deepen.  After some time, he is surprised to find that Molly has fallen asleep.

           They had never gotten around to coffee.

 

**Author's Note:**

> This work has not been beta-ed, please send constructive criticism!


End file.
